


Never Look Back

by Nicknacks22



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Hunter!Stiles, M/M, Non-Canon Relationship, non-canon characters - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-09-01
Updated: 2012-08-31
Packaged: 2017-11-13 07:12:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/500851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nicknacks22/pseuds/Nicknacks22
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Four years have passed since the Alpha Pack invaded Beacon Hills. Stiles, now a successful Hunter, must unravel his tangled past and the lies of the present with the help of the one alpha he swore to forget.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Never Look Back

**Author's Note:**

> So, this takes place after season 3 (whose events I have fabricated) and contains some of my own original characters. Also, this is my first ever post to AO3 so if you have any tips or suggestions or criticisms or compliments they would all be much obliged.

The knife felt good in Stiles’ hand as he yanked it from its sheath, flipping it in midair so that the tip pointed downwards. He had always liked knives, ever since the Hunters had first given him the choice. Bows and guns were necessary of course, it was easier to take out werewolves from a distance, but there was something about the feel of a knife; something extremely satisfying in the ability to beat a werewolf in close combat, being able to best them despite their advantages. Knives just made him feel powerful.  
The sound of dead leaves crunching brought him back to the fight. Fighting med-free was necessary, but he sometimes lost track of the battle around him. A werewolf was approaching and he readied himself, tightening his grip. It lunged and he swung, burying the blade in its chest. The low, rumbling growl coming from its throat cut off abruptly as blood trickled from the side of the wolf’s mouth. It was a male, his light brown eyes glassing over while Stiles watched. The hunter smirked in satisfaction. He hadn’t been sure if he’d hit the heart; sometimes, if he was off even an inch, the wolf would be able to heal itself. 

The crack of a gun startled him and he jumped back, pulling the knife free with a wet-sounding lurch. A new hole had appeared in the now crumpled man’s head.  
Whirling, he shouted, “What the hell was that, Kyle? I’d already killed him!”

The other man chuckled, pushing shaggy blond hair out of his eyes as he stepped out from the shadow of the trees. “That’s what you said last time. And we both remember what happened then.” Reaching Stiles he stopped, bringing a hand up to trace his jaw, thumb running over a long, pale scar on his cheek. “I don’t want to see you get hurt again, so I make sure you don’t.”

Stiles sighed and Kyle pressed a quick kiss to the spot where his thumb had just been. For some reason, this made Stiles even angrier. The incident his hunting partner referred to happened over two months ago. The wound had long since healed and hadn’t even been all that big of a deal in the first place.

This was the problem with Kyle. He had a tendency to treat Stiles like he was made of glass, like he couldn’t handle himself. Stiles could though. He could and he was tired of not being recognized; he was a good hunter, one of the best. There had been a time when protecting himself, and being able to protect others, hadn’t been something he was capable of, but that was a long ago.

Four years earlier…

The door to Stiles’ jeep shut with a crash as he practically fell onto the driveway. He was so tired. With the new alpha pack in town he had almost no time to sleep, constantly researching or helping to deal with the various conflicts. 

They were fighting a losing battle. That much was clear to him. So far they had been able to hold off the new enemy, but just barely. Allison had been wounded, though she still insisted on fighting, Derek and Scott were stretched thin, the betas could barely hold off a single alpha, even when fighting three on one, and Jackson was still too unsure of his new abilities and worried about Lydia to be of much help. No one knew exactly what the alpha pack wanted with them, but it wouldn’t be long before they were forced to give it to them. People were going to get hurt, or worse.

All the lights were off in the house when he stumbled inside. The sheriff had been working late a lot lately so Stiles mostly had the place to himself, especially at night. It got pretty lonely. Usually he tried to stay at Scott’s or vice versa, but he had seen him and Allison heading off together when he had left Jackson’s house (which, oddly enough had become their headquarters of sorts since the Hale house had been compromised) and he wanted to let them have their alone time.  
The house was pretty creepy at night and he crossed to the steps quickly, going upstairs to his room and locking the door. So maybe he was a little more paranoid with the alpha threat looming, but who could blame him?

“Stiles.”

“Shit, holy, Derek, why?”

The one alpha who, surprisingly enough, he wasn’t afraid of had decided to return to his recurring role of window creeper.

“What did I say about doing that, damn you? This is why we can’t have nice things!”

Derek just ignored him, sighing as he sank down onto the bed and ran a hand through his hair.

Stiles took a deep breath. This was not good. Derek Hale was sitting on his bed. In his house. With no Sheriff supervision. Basically, it was a dream come true and a total nightmare.

“Is everything okay,” Stiles asked. He realized that he’d just been standing awkwardly in front of the door for who knew how long. Luckily Derek had been looking down at his hands and hadn’t noticed the staring. Derek being Derek probably hadn’t even noticed anything was wrong anyway. Long, awkward silences were kind of his thing.

“I think you probably know better than anyone just how serious this whole situation is.”

There it was. Stiles knew that they were all feeling it, knew that Derek especially was feeling hopeless, but to have it said aloud like that made it more real somehow. Derek was their alpha, as much as some of them would like to deny it, and if he broke then the rest of them didn’t have a chance.

“It’s my fault,” the wolf continued. “I don’t know anything about being an alpha. I’m not good enough. I can barely keep things together under normal circumstances. I don’t trust Peter enough to get his help. Scott is even more clueless than me. I just don’t think we can do this!”

Derek’s voice had risen with each uttered statement until finally he finished with a yell. Stiles was stunned. This was more emotion than he had ever seen Sourwolf express. His normal scowl had been replaced with a look of pain, despair even. The alpha on his bed was not the arrogant asshole that they were all used to. He was scared.  
Stiles was sinking onto the bed beside him before he even had a chance to consider what he was doing; his instincts kicked in immediately at the sight of someone else in pain. Even if it was a grumpy shape shifter, he hated to see anyone upset.

“Look. . . Buddy. . . It’s gonna be okay,” he said, reaching up to awkwardly pat Derek’s shoulder. To his utter shock there was no violent shoulder shrug to throw off his hand, not even a sidelong glare. Things were worse than he had originally thought. He knew he had to say or do something, but nothing seemed adequate. Lies wouldn’t provide any comfort, and how did one even fathom trying to comfort Derek freaking Hale in the first place? “Who knows, maybe Peter can sass the big bad wolves away?”

The man beside him turned slowly, shifting so that his thigh pressed against Stiles’, who gulped, thinking he’d gone too far. But then, Derek was grabbing him, and it wasn’t the “I’m about to use my scary wolf strength to intimidate you into silence” kind of grab. It felt gentle, still strong, but nice, in a way. When the pair of warm lips pressed against his, Stiles first reaction was, unfortunately, to shriek a little. For once though, he was glad that Derek was freakishly strong. The wolf held him in place, deepening the kiss as he did and allowing Stiles’ brain to actually process what was happening to him.

He, Stiles Stilinski, was making out with Derek Werewolf Hale. And it was fucking awesome!

Derek was an even better kisser than he could have ever imagined him being. Not that he imagined that or anything. Certainly not on a daily basis anyway. But he was good, crazy good actually, which Stiles couldn’t quite figure out because that would imply that Derek had had a lot of practice, and the very thought of that didn’t even come close to fitting with the idea he had of the man who was now on top of him, pressing him into the mattress with his weight.

“Stiles,” Derek muttered, inches from his face. “You do know that you’re supposed to kiss back, right?”

His brain was so far gone from coming up with a witty comment at this point that Stiles just did what he was told and kissed back. It was probably a lot more forceful than what he had been expecting, and sloppy, but Derek didn’t seem to care because he responded in kind, sucking the younger boy’s lip into his mouth and trailing his tongue along it. It was all rough fire, uncoordinated and hot and Stiles cock was throbbing in its denim prison. When his phone started vibrating violently he shuddered in pleasure, gripping Derek even harder when he pulled away.

“You should get that,” the alpha rasped, voice catching in his throat in a way that would have been hilarious to Stiles under different circumstances. “It could be your dad.”  
The vibrating in his pants was driving Stiles insane as he groped wildly in his pocket, wondering when his jeans had become so tight, and when Derek had become gay, and when he had become gay for that matter, and a million other things until finally he managed to yank it out, slamming his thumb into the answer button.

“Stiles Stilinski speaking,” he stammered into the phone, holding it tight to his ear and trying to get his breathing under control. “Wait, hold on, no. That can’t be right. No. You’re wrong,” he yelled into the phone as the voice on the other end continued to speak. Stiles was no longer listening, no longer caring. The device fell from his hand, tumbling to the floor and hitting with a shattering thud. As he turned to the man beside him there was a blank look in his eyes. There was no way, it was impossible. Whoever had called had been lying and he needed Derek to tell him that right now. Derek had super wolf hearing. He could tell if they had been lying. He would know.  
As the leather clad arms moved up to pull him into a hug and the “I’m so sorry Stileses” began to fall around his head like soft rain he crumpled. Tears and noises that he wasn’t even aware he could make were pouring out of him, staining Derek’s clothes and the stifling air around them with their presence. How could this have happened? How could he have let this happen? His father was invincible, he was the sheriff. No one could touch him. But they had. And Stiles had let it happen. He hadn’t been able to protect him. It was all his fault.

Time ceased to exist in that house as he cried, letting everything out. Years of grief and anger and fear poured out of him like waves and Derek accepted them all, holding Stiles tightly to him, so tight that he almost couldn’t breathe, and letting it all pass. Even with Derek there though, Stiles could feel himself falling apart. With every racking sob and coughing cry a little piece of him fractured even further until he could feel the cracks all the way throughout his being. He was shattering into a million pieces, watching the pieces fall to the floor as darkness overwhelmed him.


End file.
